


An Extensive Knowledge of Botanical Terms

by Crosswired Processor (KageDanza)



Series: Detroit: Become A Little Better Every Day [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And Replaces Those Feelings With Plants, Android Jesus, Anxious Baby, But It's Not A Main Protagonist, But Plants Are Good, Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor Frequently Has Feelings Then Yeets Them Away, Connor Keeps Apologizing For Being Alive, Connor Likes Plants, Connor's Software is Supported By Denial v.3.7, Connor's Still a Mess, Depression, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hank's Still a Mess, Hurt/Comfort, I promise there's a plot in here somewhere, I'll Keep Adding Tags Until The Lack of Sleep Catches Up, Markus just wants Connor to call him back, Mostly a Precursor to Future Fics, Oops, Poor Connor, Sassy Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Spoonful of Angst, That's it that's the plot, The Author Apologizes, This Fic Has Mood Swings, everyone is sad, everyone's a mess, never mind it might be, things are getting better, this fic is a MESS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KageDanza/pseuds/Crosswired%20Processor
Summary: It's Post-Revolution, and life is a lot more boring than anyone expected. It kind of sucks. Hank's doing better, whatever that means, Connor's trying not to turn Hank's house into a set for an HGTV house-flipping show (and failing), and they're both just trying to keep it together as well as they can. So Hank decides to buy Connor a plant before the cabinets get ripped out and painted, just until CyberLife's state-of-the-art deviant gets his job back.Connor LOVES it. Plants are his thing now. Who needs people? Who needs feelings? Plants are the real superior beings. The trouble is, everyone seems to think that he needs to 'make friends' and 'stop wallowing in self-pity' and 'confront his emotions', which is absurd, and Hank is wrestling with the fact that he's kind of a dad again somehow. Someone help these sad men.Featuring Android Jesus! Weird Plant Guy! And Copious Amounts of Plant Content!
Series: Detroit: Become A Little Better Every Day [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733290
Comments: 141
Kudos: 231





	1. Cleaning Up My Life, Or At Least My Desk

A couple months after the events of the android revolution, Hank finally got around to sort out his life... kind of. He was trying, at least. Fewer beers, more frequent showers. He did the dishes a little more often so the food wouldn't start rotting in the sink. He tried not to get as drunk in the evenings, partially because it kept Connor off his back, and partially because it killed him to see the kid disappointed, even if he never said anything about it. The android had enough on his plate with the aftermath of the revolution.

Eventually, he even got around to cleaning the shit off of his desk. At the end of a long day of paperwork and bad coffee, he started pulling the stickers off his monitor, tossed out the empty donut boxes, shuffled paper into something resembling organized stacks. Finally, his eyes fell on the little Japanese maple bonsai he’d gotten as a gift from a coworker back when he’d had friends at work. The poor thing was stripped of leaves, and he moved to toss it in the trash, but thought better of it. Maybe Connor would know how to bring the damn thing back to life. God knows he'd been moping around way too much, and it could be good for him to pick up a hobby that didn’t involve rearranging Hank’s furniture. He took it with him to the car and headed home. 

"Hey, Connor!" he called, shutting the door behind him. He set the dead plant down on the coffee table, walking through to the kitchen. "Connor, I got something for you!"

The android came in through the sliding glass door. "Sorry, lieutenant, I was inspecting the exterior of your house for structural problems. There's a hairline crack in the foundation on the southeast side that you may want to keep an eye on," He said, dusting off his clothes. 

"You know it's not actually a requirement to watch HGTV when you're stuck at home, right?" Hank asked. "Not that I don't appreciate you doing shit I usually have to pay for, but you’re kind of worrying me here, kid.” He gestured to the kitchen counters, which looked so clean he could almost bet the android had found a way to kill the other 1% of germs. 

"It's no trouble, lieutenant. It only seems right to take care of your home when you've allowed me to stay in it for so long. I would hate to impose," Connor said, glancing at the coffee table with the dead bonsai on it briefly and frowning. He looked back up at Hank. "In any case, it would be a waste of my programming to not occupy myself."

"For the last fucking time, Connor, you're not imposing." Hank walked over to the fridge and opened it, reaching in to grab a beer. "Fuck, you even rearranged the condiments. You know, most of those are expired." He sniffed at a mayonnaise container and grimaced. “Yeesh.”

"I didn't want to throw anything away without asking you first. I felt it was enough of an intrusion to move your possessions around." The android straightened his tie self-consciously.

"From now on you have my permission to throw rotting food in the garbage, all right?" Hank opened the silverware drawer- also rearranged, and organized so perfectly he almost felt bad shifting things around to reach the bottle opener. He sighed. "Shit, kid." 

"You said you brought me something?" Connor asked, looking back to the bonsai. 

"Yeah. If you don't want to, I'm not worried about it, but I wondered if you might be able to figure out how to salvage that thing. Not to give you another task, but, you know-"

"I’m afraid it’s beyond saving at this point, Hank,” Connor said. He went to the coffee table and kneeled in front of the pot, brushing his fingers against the bare trunk of the little tree. “According to my search results, once the roots of a bonsai tree dry out, they cannot be revived again.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah, I figured. Still, it was worth a shot.” He shrugged and took a long drink, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. He laughed. “You gotta be fucking kidding me, you’ve actually been watching this crap? I was just joking.”

Connor scowled. “Nothing else of value was playing. I only watched two episodes.”

“I swear to God, if you start knocking down walls and telling me they were load-bearing, I’m kicking you out of my house.” Hank pointed the mouth of the bottle at the android, smirking. 

“I have the most advanced programming known to androidkind,” Connor said, returning the teasing look. “If I ever remove a load-bearing wall, I want you to promise you’ll have me shut down.” He sat on the other end of the couch.

Hank snorted. “I’ll do that,” he said, and turned on the basketball game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my fic! It's the first I've posted in five years, and I'm excited to get back in the game.
> 
> Next up: Hank gets Connor a plant that's not dead!


	2. My Android Buddy Needs A Friend To Play With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank knows nothing about plants.

The former city maintenance android behind the counter at the plant nursery was not impressed by Hank's vast knowledge of botanical terms.

"So that's a houseplant, right?" He asked, pointing to a nice-looking bush thing in a hanging pot. 

"Yes, it is," the android- Nigel, according to the tag clipped to his shirt- said. "That is a hanging variegated philodendron." He walked around from behind the counter to lift it from its hook, and held it out to Hank. "I highly recommend it for those just starting out since its needs are fairly standard for most indoor plants. Mist it once every morning, keep it in bright, indirect light, and water it deeply once a week. I suggest you fertilize on the same day you water to prevent burning. Use an all-purpose plant food diluted by half, and it will continue to grow at a steady rate." Nigel gestured to the fertilizer aisle in the back corner. "Of course, if you'd like another type of plant, I'm happy to help you find another that will suit your desires."

"No, this is fine," Hank said, squinting at the plant. "It's, uh, it's not for me. I have a friend that's into this kind of stuff, and I figured I'd get something for him." He scratched the back of his neck, only realizing there was potting soil on his fingers after he’d smeared it on himself. "I'd probably kill the thing, honestly. I’m shit with these things.”

Nigel looked almost relieved. "Would you say your friend is more of a beginner, or does he have a good amount of gardening experience? Because, depending on his skill level, I have a couple of plants from my own collection that I've been meaning to pass along to a good home,” he said. “Free of charge with a purchase.”

"He's just starting out, but I'm not sure how it is with androids," Hank said. "I gave him a dead plant the other day, and now he opens his mouth and it's like I have a fucking botany textbook living in my house." He laughed.

"An android!" The clerk's eyes lit up. "Well, in that case, I'm certain there's nothing to worry about." He went behind the counter and stooped to grab something. "Not to pry or anything, but how up-to-date is his software?" he said, his voice muffled. He popped back up, a couple of bizarre-looking plants in his arms. "If he was made in the past eight years, I can almost guarantee he'll reach the skill equivalent of a master gardener in a matter of weeks."

"He's a prototype," Hank said, setting the philodendron on the counter and pulling out his wallet. "Pretty sure he's less than a year old, actually. How much?"

"Oh, wow. You know what? These ones are on me." Nigel motioned for Hank to put it away. "I'll grab you a flat for those. Tell your friend he's welcome here anytime, all right? I'm always happy to help out a younger model." 

"You sure?" Hank hesitated, squinting at the android. "I don't mind paying for all of them."

"Of course. Consider it a free sample, and if you want to make it up to me, just tell him to come by whenever he's in need of more gardening supplies." The android smiled and set the plants in a flat, sliding them across the counter. “If I know anything about plant-loving androids, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, and I’m all about good business.” He winked.

"All right, I'll bite." Hank shrugged and stuffed the wallet in his back pocket, grabbing the box. "I really appreciate that, Nigel. I'll let him know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far! Let me know what you think, and stick around for a new chapter in the next couple of days.
> 
> Next up: Connor learns the meaning of love. Or infatuation. Or... goddamnit, he loves plant


	3. Seriously, He Only Talks to Me and My Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's happy about the plants, if a little confused. Hank gets a phone call from Android Jesus.

When Hank got home, he was not surprised to find that Connor had repainted the cupboards. At least he’d just used the spare cans of paint in the garage, apparently, since the color was exactly the same. The android himself was in stasis on the couch. Maybe he’d run out of projects to take on. 

“Connor.” Hank adjusted the box of plants and struggled to kick the door shut behind him. “Wake up, Connor, I brought you some friends.” He winced as one of the pots shifted, making it harder to balance. 

The android opened his eyes and turned his head, clearly scanning. “Gardenia jasminoides, monstera deliciosa, and philodendron scandens,” he said, standing up. He walked over to shut the door behind Hank. “Two of those are relatively uncommon. You went somewhere that specializes in plant sales.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Hank grunted, trying to tilt the box so that the pot would slide back. “Figured I’d stick with the whole plant idea and get you something to talk to besides Sumo.”

Connor stared at the plants. “Why did you purchase these for me?” His LED circled yellow for a moment. 

“Actually, I didn’t. Kid at the counter gave them to me for free because I told him they were for a prototype android.” He sighed and settled on awkwardly shuffling into the kitchen to set the box down on the dining table. He scratched his neck, looking down at the plants. “I should start bringing you with me to the grocery store, honestly.”

“But you intended to buy them. Why?” Brown eyes met blue, and damned if the kid didn’t look like a lost puppy.

“Fuck’s sake.” Hank ran his hand down his face. “It’s the least I can do with all the shit you’ve been doing around the house, and the plants wouldn’t have been that much anyway, and if you don’t pick up a hobby soon you’re probably going to glitch out or something.” He huffed and gestured at the box. “It’s a gift, Connor, just do what you want with ‘em and get out of your head about it, all right?”

Silence and a spinning yellow light. Finally, “All right, Hank. I’ll find an adequate place to put these.” He picked up the box with a hell of a lot more ease than Hank had demonstrated with it. “The Cheese plant will not develop the holes in its leaves characteristic to the species if it gets too much sunlight, but won’t thrive with too little light,” He said softly, more to the plants than to Hank, walking through the living room to analyze the various surfaces he could place them on. Fucking nerd.

Hank’s phone rang. He fumbled to get it out of his back pocket and went to his bedroom. “Hank Anderson,” he said, glancing back as he shut the door.  
“Hello, Hank, this is Markus. I’m the leader of-”

“Jericho, yeah.” Hank shifted the phone. “Not to be rude, but why is Android Jesus calling me on a Friday evening? Is something wrong?” He looked out the window.

“No, not that I’m aware of yet. I just wanted to check in with Connor to make sure he’s all right. He hasn’t been answering any of my calls, and I’m beginning to worry about him. He is living with you, isn’t he?” 

There was a soft shuffling in the living room and the sound of blinds being opened. “Yeah,” Hank said. “And he’s been playing Chip and Joanna Gaines for the past few weeks.”

A laugh on the other end. “So he hasn’t seemed off in any way?” Markus asked, his tone becoming more serious. “I admit I’m not familiar with his personality yet, but I’m concerned he may feel isolated from his people, and I’d like to make sure he knows that he’s always welcome with us.”

“All right, I’ll let him know,” Hank said. The shuffling grew quieter on the other side of the wall as Connor left the living room. “Anything else you needed from me?”

“No, I believe that’s it. Although, if you could request that he answer my calls, I’d be grateful. There’s something I need to ask him about that could be related to his safety.” 

“Will do.” 

“Thank you, Hank. Before I cut the connection, is there anything I can help you with?” 

“Yeah, can you tell me how the hell you got my number?” Hank scratched his jaw, trying to remember if he’d signed up for some Jericho call list or some similar shit.

“We’ve been attempting to create a database of emergency contacts for as many androids as we can while anti-android violence is on the rise,” Markus said. “Yours was the only number Connor listed.” 

“No shit?” Hank said, raising his eyebrows. “Huh.”

They made their polite goodbyes and Hank hung up.

He looked down at his phone for a moment before saving the contact under “Karcus.” 

When he made his way back out of the bedroom, Connor was crouched next to one of the plants and pouring water out of a pitcher into a measuring cup. He was putting way too much mental effort into the task, his LED spinning a wild yellow.  
“Your Lord and Savior rA9 wants you to answer his calls,” Hank said, heading to the fridge. 

Connor stood up, looking like a deer in headlights. “Markus contacted you,” he said. “What happened? Is it an emergency?”

“No, he just wanted to check in. Make sure you weren’t off getting yourself killed.” Hank grabbed a beer and turned to face the android, who seemed to relax a bit. “You know, I probably shouldn’t be the only person on your contacts list, Connor.” He looked pointedly at the android. “There’s a lot of shit going on out there, and if you end up in trouble and I can’t answer my phone…” he paused. “Just add some more numbers onto that thing,” he finished, opening the beer. 

Connor opened his mouth and shut it again. He looked over at the plant sitting pretty on the coffee table, the measuring cup in his hands. “Lieutenant, I’m not sure I can do that,” he said, shifting his weight. “I don’t have anyone else.”

Fuck. This conversation might require a few more beers. 

“All right, uh.” Hank sucked in a breath and puffed out his cheeks. “For now, add Fowler. He’ll at least be able to contact me if I don’t have my phone on hand.”

Connor closed his eyes. LED spinning. He opened them. “Done,” he said. 

“And start making friends, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’ll do my best, Hank.” Apparently androids can roll their eyes. That's new, but not surprising.

“And answer Markus’s calls.”

“...I will.”

Hank nodded and sat down at the dining table with his tablet. He took a swig of the beer and watched as Connor poured the water back into the pitcher and started the process of measuring it out once again. 

Was he… whispering to the plant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be a plot, and I double-swear it will thicken. Bear with me please, and thank you so much for sticking around!
> 
> Karcus is concerned but also mildly PEEVED (He'd never say it, though)
> 
> Next up: Are you there, Markus? It's me, Connor. Or: Connor picks up the goddamn phone and maybe gets a job


	4. I'm the Android Sent By... Hank, I Guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor answers an important call and is definitely NOT a sassy little shit.

It was taking an embarrassing amount of time for Connor to return Markus's calls, and he was aware of it, but there were so many tasks to complete before he could even consider starting what would likely be a long conversation. These tasks might have included carefully inspecting each leaf on each of his plants, and weeding the lawn by hand, and meticulously planning his home-improvement projects. Markus could wait. Markus was a very busy man anyway. It was probable that he wouldn't even be able to answer if Connor called him. He was the leader of Jericho, after all, and if only half of the deviants were as fidgety- industrious as Connor preferred to be, there would be an inordinate amount of projects to be worked on in their new base. 

"I'm only being considerate of his needs," he told his swiss cheese plant diplomatically. Its leaves bobbed in agreement, but the gesture seemed sarcastic. “I am not avoiding him,” Connor insisted. Its leaves bobbed again. “There have been no recurrences of Amanda’s takeover since the first event, so there’s not much of a chance that being in close proximity with Markus will cause harm.” More bobbing. “I have no reason to be concerned, so I am not concerned.” Bob, bob, bob. 

He walked away from the cheese plant. It was being a little shit, and he didn’t have to explain himself. He’d make the call just to demonstrate his lack of concern. That would show-

Incoming communication request from //RK200#684 842 971- Designation “Markus”.  
Accept or Deny?  
Accept or Deny?  
Accept or-

Call Accepted.

“Connor.” The voice on the other end seemed relieved. “Thank you for answering.” Connor tried not to simulate the ‘finally’ that was left unsaid.

“You’re welcome.” He should say more than that, such as an explanation, or perhaps an apology, his social programming told him helpfully. He did not.

“I’ve been trying to reach you because I want to request a favor of you. Actually, it’s more of a job offer.”

“Androids can’t legally have jobs yet,” Connor pointed out. He was not being difficult on purpose. 

“We are allowed to perform tasks in exchange for credit on a case-to-case basis. I know you’re aware of that.” 

“So you have a task I can perform in exchange for credit?” he asked. Hank would tell him he was being an asshole, and he would be right. What was wrong with him?

“Lieutenant Anderson told me that you’ve been bored, so I assumed you’d be interested.” He'd made Markus annoyed. It felt wrong.

Connor considered denying it, tried to convince himself of the risks of proximity. “I’m interested,” he admitted. “What does the job entail?” He was bad at this.

“I want you to come to Jericho this next weekend to make sure that everything runs smoothly at the private charity event we’re hosting. You would be head of the security detail. At the moment it consists primarily of PC200s and PM700s, along with a few athletic models, all volunteering. Everything should be all right, but it would make me feel much safer if they had you to direct them.”

“The other members aren’t being paid?” Connor asked. That wasn’t their leader’s usual style.

“Officially, they’re not, because they’ve been working all of Jericho’s events for the past month, and that looks a little too much like a job in the eyes of the federal government.” Markus sounded a little bitter.

“Unofficially?”

“They’re working for thirty percent more than minimum wage. It’s still not enough, but…”

“But it’s better than nothing.”

“Agreed.”

So it was a deal. Not that there was ever a question, but Connor liked to pretend that he wasn’t desperate for an objective to pursue in the absence of his original programming. Denial was one of his favorite human inventions. 

He spent the rest of his day moving the philodendron from room to room, trying to find the optimal position for it. He tried to install a hook just above the window in the bathroom to hang the pot from, but realized as he was drilling the hole that the bathtub the window was set above actually served a daily function for Hank, who was unfortunately human. The philodendron would get in the way of the shower and therefore Hank’s personal hygiene, and that was unacceptable. But maybe… no. He settled for hanging it in the corner of the living room, near the large window.

There weren’t nearly enough places for sunlight to reach the inside of the house, in Connor’s opinion. There had to be a solution for this.

Outgoing call to Contact: [Lt. Hank Anderson]

Ring….  
Ring….  
Ri-

“What’s up, Connor? I’m working.”

“May I install a skylight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: What would Hank say if he saw me now?
> 
> Connor: *in Hank's voice* Sass is not a substitute for conversational skills, asshole
> 
> Connor: Well, fuck Hank anyway
> 
> Thank you for reading this far! Shoutout to Except_On_Tuesday for the bathroom window idea (I did a quick search and I'd totally forgotten that the window is in the shower) along with the skylight idea, as well as for commenting on all of my chapters so far. 
> 
> Next up: A Jericho party! A charity party! A Connor-got-a-job-which-is-a-rarity party!


	5. I Came Here to Have a Good Time and Honestly I Feel... Disappointed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing exciting or fun about this party, and Connor just hopes Markus knows what the hell he's doing.

The charity event seemed small compared to Connor's initial fantasy of Jericho's first official party since the Liberation, especially given how long the briefing on security had lasted, and how many hypothetical scenarios Markus had walked them through. He watched from the entrance to the empty CyberLife-warehouse-turned-venue as people filtered in, the crowd consisting of much of Jericho's population along with a huddled, vaguely disdainful cluster of Detroit's elite, who were holding glasses of absurdly expensive ethanol mixtures and covertly adjusting the collars, cuffs, and hems of their designer clothes. They looked lost and irritable. Connor could relate. 

Markus stood in the center of a stage fabricated the day before by a group of android volunteers. It was flawless. There was a brief moment where the RK200 silently connected his vocal modulator to the speakers throughout the warehouse. A hush fell over the crowd as he raised his hand.

“Thank you all for coming to Jericho’s first charity event,” Markus said. “And I am so grateful to the Blood Brothers Organization for collaborating with us to put it all together,” he said, gesturing to a small group of androids gathered in the corner. They waved in a general way. “I hope that this event will be the first of many, and that every one of them will prove to be beneficial to the relationship between our people,” he nodded to the androids, “and your people,” he looked to the humans. The latter, for their part, were listening respectfully and raised their glasses. “I won’t make this last longer than it needs to,” he said, “but there are a few things that should be said.” 

Connor scanned the crowd. Nobody seemed hostile. Just...bored. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Markus was throwing a terrible party on purpose to lull the humans into thinking that the android population was essentially harmless. It was probably smart, and potentially a cover or an entrance into bigger plans.

This was not the escape he’d wanted. 

Markus made a speech, eloquent and informative, about the Blood Brothers Organization and its mission, its philosophy, its benefit to the city and the city’s benefactors. “Androids helping humans to fill the economic gap left by CyberLife’s slave industry by serving the homeless of Detroit,” he said, and androids and humans alike clapped politely as he concluded and walked down the stairs of the stage to greet his guests in person. Connor watched as he was absorbed into the crowd, and checked in with the others on duty. Nothing. 

He wondered if his plants were lonely. Did plants experience emotions? Were nastic and tropic responses to stimuli comparable to human emotion? What about android emotion? 

He kept scanning the crowd, searching for danger, quietly communicating with the rest of the security detail. Attempting to seem friendly when the people of the crowd glanced over at him, whispering. He hoped he seemed friendly, at least. Deviancy made everything more complicated. Was he supposed to smile more now? Less? These were grave existential questions.

Markus approached him after a while, smiling benevolently, and held out his hand, which Connor shook.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jericho’s leader told him. He seemed to mean it.

Connor nodded, which was awkward. “I’m surprised the turnout wasn’t more impressive,” he admitted. He ran a quick diagnostic on his social programming. Nothing abnormal, his ass.

Markus laughed, and stood next to Connor so that he could watch the crowd as it shifted. The humans were venturing out into the mass of androids, and seemed to be asking questions, put at ease by the availability of alcohol and food, the latter of which was displayed elegantly on a table near the empty stage. 

“You’re not alone in your surprise.” Markus said after a moment. “But it seems that when you only invite a small group of people to come to a party, only a small group of people will arrive at the party,” he said, sending Connor a smile that seemed nearly mischievous. So this was planned.

“Did you also plan for it to be terrible?” Connor asked without thinking. Regret. Regret. Regret.

“Yes, actually,” Markus said, tilting his head. “Though no one has ventured to put it quite so bluntly.” The chatter was getting louder, which was a good sign. The people looked more relaxed.

“Hank says I’m an asshole, and I think he’s right,” Connor said, scanning the crowd again. “My social programming may be malfunctioning.” He straightened his tie and resisted the urge to pull out his coin. Deviancy was terrible.

“Either that, or you’re adjusting to your new emotions just like everyone else.” Markus gave him a meaningful look. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. This has to be difficult for you.” 

Connor avoided his gaze. “Why did you choose to throw a bad party?” he asked as he pinged the others to check up on the situation. All affirmative messages, which was almost unfortunate. He tried not to wish for an explosion or something similar to pull him away from this disaster of a conversation.

“Between you and me, the afterparty will be better,” Markus said, lowering his voice. “This,” he said, motioning to the listless crowd, “is just a way to filter out those who haven’t earned our trust yet.” He winked at Connor and went back into the fray, shaking hands with androids and humans alike, leaving the RK800 vaguely hopeful that the night could be salvaged. Thank rA9 that Markus was used to people behaving like absolute idiots around him. 

At some point, music started playing, and he began to hear smatterings of quiet laughter interspersed with the chatter. People briefly caught on to the rhythm, dancing a few self-conscious steps until their confidence dissolved and they returned to the safety of conversation. One of the humans seemed inebriated, having purchased a few too many mixed drinks in the name of charity. Her laughter was louder than anyone else’s, and for a moment he thought he saw her dancing the Robot. Offensive, but somehow less so because a few of the androids around her began to follow suit, and whether out of pity or true solidarity it didn’t matter. 

A group of giggling androids passed by, and one glanced over at him. Her smile faded as they locked eyes, morphed into something that made Connor’s systems feel sluggish and broken. Then the group was gone.

Incoming communication request from Contact: [Markus]

Accept or-

Call Accepted. 

“Is something wrong?” Connor asked, initiating another scan. Nothing unusual.

“No, no, Connor, everything’s all right. I just wanted to update you on the timeline.”

“Understood.” He pinged the others, and got the standard answer.

“The official party will be ending in one hour. I’ll make a closing speech, and our people will begin to file out. The humans whom we’ve notified of the afterparty will stay behind, and I want you and your detail to keep them occupied while I finish the arrangements. Do you have any questions?”

“Constantly.” 

A laugh. “Then we’re going to get along wonderfully. Thank you again, Connor. I appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome. I’m looking forward to seeing what you have planned.”

The line disconnected, and Connor straightened his back, setting an internal countdown. 59:59. He looked out at the crowd, and tried to seem as friendly as possible. 59:58. Maybe he’d settle for looking as politely engaged as possible. 59:57. As professional as possible. 59:56. Markus was very, very good at throwing awful parties. 59:56. There better be plants wherever the afterparty was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to give our boy a fun time for once in his actual life. Is "when you've been through a revolution everything afterward is mind-numbingly dull and disappointing" a substantial theme? Because that and "plants will get you through any hard time, ever" are the two ideas propping up this piece.
> 
> Next up: We find out what Markus is planning, why Connor is in Quarantine, and most importantly, whether the afterparty venue has plants. Stay tuned!


	6. Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time- Seriously, You're Stressing Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor delivers the guests, Markus is sick of him being a big sad baby about everything, and the humans aren't totally garbage.

Gathering the three humans that had been deemed worthy and leading them out of the warehouse and to the true center of the New Jericho compound by way of a convoluted path through mazes of shipping containers and outbuildings in the frigid February wind was wonderfully absurd and vaguely cultish. It was also undoubtedly the highlight of Connor's entire month. 

"Can somebody tell me where we're being taken?" A woman in a synthetic fur coat asked, clutching her arms to her chest as if to trap her body heat by force. "I would like to let you know that my wife is expecting me home by two a.m. sharp, and if I am so much as thirty minutes late she will call the police." She sniffed. Natasha Hoffman: a scan told him that she was an influential politician, her wife head of a massive shipping company. She seemed nice, if anxious.

Connor ignored her as he followed the path Markus had mapped out for him. It was incredibly inefficient, and its purpose seemed to be to disorient the guests. Markus had explained to him that the more uncomfortable they were on the way to the afterparty, the better. Nothing made a very wealthy human feel more special and included, he’d said, than being treated like garbage on the way to an extremely private party. Despite his initial skepticism, Connor was inclined to think he was right; even as they griped and complained and in a thousand different passive-aggressive ways told him he was being ridiculous, he could tell that they were thrilled to be in on the secret.

Maybe they weren't all that different from him. Bored, and desperate for a diversion that would prove interesting enough to remove the dull ache of sentience for a few hours. 

The humans started huddling closer and closer together, speaking quietly amongst themselves, and Connor did a quick scan to confirm that their body temperatures were holding steady. 

"We'll be arriving at the venue shortly," he said, flashing a smile at them. "Thank you for your patience and your understanding."

A gruff older man in a suit that was worth more than Connor's hardware and software combined nodded his head seriously. "You can't be too careful in these times," he said, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his nose. An investor- Alexander Schott.

"Things have been... tense, these past few months," Connor agreed. "It's impressive that you've earned Markus's trust so quickly." It was good to flatter them now that they were almost to the party, he decided. The sound of their footsteps on the wet concrete echoed off of the containers metallically. 

He did a quick visual scan of the environment. No unusual heat signatures hiding behind the shipping containers, no unexpected guests. Good. The security system around New Jericho may have been the most advanced of its kind, but there was always a chance that someone could circumvent the measures they had taken. 

"I wouldn't go so far as to say he trusts us," a tall young man- CEO of an up-and-coming tech company, apparently- said, fidgeting in his expensive but ill-fitting overcoat as they walked. "More like, we've proven that we're here to adapt to these changes, and are willing to fund what may be the foundation of the American workforce in the next ten or so years." His teeth chattered toward the end of his sentence, and he clenched his jaw shut. Connor had a feeling he would have kept talking for much longer if not for the cold, because he had that kind of look. It reminded him of a young, awkward Kamski.

“We’re here,” Connor said. They took a second to look up at the building, which was also a warehouse, but it was a bigger warehouse, and had windows with curtains. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” David Weisman (alternate designation: baby-faced Kamski) said. 

Incoming message from Contact: [Markus]  
//bring them up to the roof

“We’re going up to the roof,” Connor told them as though he’d known all along that the party was on the roof. 

They grudgingly followed him into the building, which had been renovated into something resembling an actual living space and place of work (it was all the same thing for androids), with walls separating rooms and storage space that made sense and televisions mounted on the walls, and they went up a set of OSHA approved iron steps to the rooftop. Natasha kept thanking God that she hadn’t worn heels. Connor silently thanked rA9 for the same reason, because the thought of having to carry her up the stairs was humiliating in itself. He asked them to stand back as he opened the door at the top.

He expected to be met by freezing temperatures, but the air was a balmy 70 degrees Fahrenheit. 

A greenhouse. 

He walked out into a massive glass container of holographic light projections and warm air, the music soft and lively. And there were plants, hanging in baskets from the iron rafters, flooding over the edges of containers by the glass walls, arranged in pots and planters and boxes. In the center of the greenhouse, a dance floor. Through the glass, the Detroit skyline was dark against the faint grey glow of light pollution and smog, and humans and androids alike milled about, nursing glasses filled, respectively, with alcohol and thirium.

“Oh, wow.” Natasha walked up behind him. “I’d heard they were trying to make this place livable, but I never expected…” she trailed off, and took off her coat, hanging it on a rack near the entrance. She wandered over to a mixed group of party-goers and began to introduce herself.

Mr. Schott passed them both and made an elegant and refined dash to the bar, with David trailing behind him. 

With that, Connor was left alone. 

Outgoing message to Contact: [Markus]  
//arrived. awaiting further instruction

The rest of the security detail was on standby, going about their business in the building below. This was the safest place in Detroit for androids- no need for constant supervision. Connor would likely be sent home.

Incoming message from Contact: [Markus]  
//on my way

Connor positioned himself next to the entrance and tried to look busy and important.

[Scanning]. >Ficus lyrata: “Fiddle Leaf Fig.” >Pilea cadierei: “Aluminum Plant.” >Calathea makoyana: “Peacock Plant.” >Codiaeum Variegatu-  
[Scan Terminated.]

“Markus,” he said when the door opened, folding his hands behind his back. 

“Hey,” the RK200 said, walking out into the greenhouse. “Good work getting the guests here relatively unharmed.” He smiled. 

“They didn’t make it difficult.” 

Markus tilted his head and his expression became a little more serious. “I hope you know you don’t need to act like a machine around me, Connor,” he said, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “I may be your leader, but this isn’t a mission.” 

Connor relaxed a bit. “Understood,” he said, and looked up at the hanging plants in the rafters. “This place is beautiful.”

“You’re welcome to enjoy the party for as long as it goes on,” Markus said, gesturing to the rest of the greenhouse.

“I shouldn’t-”

“You should.” A raised hand silenced Connor’s protests. “I can’t make you stay with us in the compound, but you deserve a place here as much as anyone else. Your people built this.”

Connor glanced between the door and the people dancing, and opened his mouth. He shut it again.

“No matter your frustration with me, I want you to feel included.” Markus held his gaze.

“I’m not-”

“You are.” Markus crossed his arms. “And if you weren’t I would be concerned. I’m the one who made you a target by putting you up on that platform.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Connor said, looking at the ground. “If you hadn’t, my position within Jericho would be even more compromised.”

“That doesn’t mean your life wasn’t made more difficult by my decisions.” Markus put a hand on the RK800’s shoulder. “Now, please, enjoy yourself. Consider that an order.” And the leader of Jericho walked away.

Connor stared at a Red Aglaonema in a purple pot, hoping it would give him answers. It didn’t. Laughter erupted in a corner of the greenhouse, and he looked up to see Natasha balancing a glass of chardonnay on her head, an SQ800 doing the same with a glass of thirium. Was it the alcohol or the lack of media coverage that was removing her inhibitions? He’d need more data. It could be important information, potentially useful for Markus’s diplomatic arrangements.

“He did say that it was an order,” he told the plant, and went to join the circle of onlookers surrounding them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it looks like this is going to be a three-chapter party! Thank you for joining me on this WILD ride of action, adventure, and suspense (awkward conversations, sarcastic inner monologue, and existential dread), and bear with me as it continues.
> 
> Next up: Connor meets some unexpected guests, sees a plant he doesn't like, and freaks out both internally and externally. Stay tuned!


	7. ...Although I Could Get Used To This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor begins to settle in and enjoy himself, Josh makes an appearance (because he needs more attention and I love and appreciate him), Markus is happy that his guests are being slightly less demanding of his time than usual, and oh, whoops.

Connor had never been in the midst of a party before. He'd been at the edges of a couple, one of them being the festivities after the Day of Liberation, which he'd promptly bowed out of after about twenty minutes. This one was slightly different, though. More relaxed, rather than desperate and relieved and filled with the messy tears of androids in mourning. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course, but the lights here were more aesthetic. He’d discovered since becoming deviant that aesthetics were important to him.

He passed androids and humans mingling together with drinks in hand, and listened to snippets of their conversations. Some of it was business related, and he got the feeling that negotiations for funding were going well, especially under the guidance of good food and drink. Most of it, however, was frivolous. Silly. An android couple was giggling about the possibility of using floppy disks as drink coasters next time New Jericho had human visitors, and he couldn't help but smile at them. 

"Connor? Is that you?" A voice from behind him asked, and he spun around. It was Josh. 

"It is." Connor blinked. "Hello." He waved a little.

"Markus told me that you would be here. I'm glad I caught you," the tall android said. "I wanted to know if you'd ever be interested in helping out with the greenhouse." He gestured to the building around them. 

"Oh." Connor fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves. "I didn't know you were taking volunteers," he said, trying to make himself look up into Josh's eyes. 

"That's really what the whole thing is," the PJ500 said with a laugh. "We're leaving it open for anyone at New Jericho to rearrange and make additions. It's become apparent that we don't have a good concept of relaxation-” understatement of the week- “so Simon, Markus and I decided to start a couple of programs that would help more people learn to cope with their newfound freetime." Josh gestured to a beautiful arrangement of tall shrubbery pruned into odd shapes at a far corner. "It's been fairly productive."

"It's wonderful," Connor said, nodding. He meant it. "I have three plants of my own at Hank's house. I like taking care of them, and it keeps me from rearranging his furniture too much.” 

"That's very good." Josh smiled. "Have you named them? Some of our more avid plant lovers can't resist giving them names." He lowered his head confidingly, and said, "And I know one android in particular who's given his potted calycanthus a serial number."

Connor's eyes widened. "I didn't know you could do that." 

“I didn’t either!” Josh’s smile got bigger, and he put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, guiding him over to a small pot of begonias. “These belong to a YK500 that lives in the main compound.”

Connor leaned down to touch a hardy pinkish leaf. "They're lovely," he said, and straightened up to face Josh. "Do child models tend to enjoy plants as much as adult models?" he asked. 

"I can’t say that I’ve seen much of a difference, but I’ll be sure to monitor that and make more observations now that you’ve asked.”

“Interesting." Connor watched a couple dancing in the center of the floor and pulled out his coin, turning it in his fingers. 

"You know," Josh said, trying to meet Connor's eyes, "you don't need to live in New Jericho to come visit the greenhouse every once in a while, or keep some of your own plants here." 

Connor gave him a small smile. "Thank you for the offer," he said, and turned back to the party. "I'll be sure to consider it thoroughly." 

"Perfect." The PJ500 nodded, satisfied, and put his hand on Connor's shoulder. "I hope to see you visiting more often," he said with a smile, and left to greet someone else.

Connor leaned back against the glass wall, and sighed. He made a new file in his storage dedicated to all the people trying (not very subtly) to get him to make friends and put himself out there. It wasn’t a large folder, but it looked very similar to his list of active contacts. Maybe it was a sign.

He decided he didn’t believe in signs, and went to the bar to order a glass of thirium even though his levels weren’t all that low. Parties were about decadence, after all.

For the next hour, no one bothered him as he wandered around the greenhouse, analyzing the plants and listening to the people. The music was pleasant, and he soon became accustomed to the constant noise. After a bit of inspection, he found that the glass panels that made up the greenhouse were manufactured in many different places, likely meaning that each piece was salvaged from some other location. The same was true for much of the supports and the main structure, and the wood panels and boards that the bar was built with had traces of sodium chloride in the grain, as well as small amounts of dead algae- likely salvaged from a dock, a boathouse, or even a watercraft. Behind the bar was an entrance to a second, longer greenhouse with what seemed to be a greater concentration of plants. 

OBJECTIVE: ENJOY YOURSELF  
>FIND OUT MORE ABOUT THE OTHER GUESTS<  
>ANALYZE PLANTS [37/?]<  
>ENTER THE SECOND GREENHOUSE?<

The founders of the Blood Brothers Organization, it turned out, were a trio of Jerrys that had initially worked out of an abandoned soup kitchen in the initial aftermath of the Revolution. He found this out by eavesdropping, not engaging in real conversation. The two weren’t all that different. 

The android working behind the bar was a domestic model that had formerly been owned by a gambler with a taste for cocktails. The human woman with the ugly but probably expensive dress had a dog that was expecting puppies. There was one human-android couple at the party, and they had surprisingly met post-Revolution, not prior. 

OBJECTIVE: ENJOY YOURSELF  
>ANALYZE PLANTS [37/?]<  
>ENTER THE SECOND GREENHOUSE<  
[GET PERMISSION FROM MARKUS]

He scanned his environment, looking for signs of Markus’s presence. There, at the other side of the greenhouse- the edge of a ragged, unnecessarily dramatic overcoat. He made a beeline for it. 

“Excuse me,” he said when he reached the RK200, who was speaking with a fairly inebriated David Weisman. 

“Connor!” Markus’s eyebrows raised. “I’m pleased to see you’re still here,” he said, and gestured to David. “We were just talking about you, actually, among other things.”

“All good things, all good things,” David said, waving a hand. “Except the part where I said you seem like you have a stick up your ass.” He squinted at Connor. “Sorry about that.” The man’s too-big suit lifted with his shoulders in a shrug.

Connor tilted his head at him. “No offense taken. Statistically speaking,” he added with a wry smile, “that is technically one of the nicest things anyone has said to me.”

David snorted. “Yikes.” He raised his glass in Connor’s direction.

Markus cleared his throat. “Is it all right if I alter your data slightly?” he asked Connor.

The RK800 nodded hesitantly.

“You’re doing an impressive job of being alive, you are innately valuable and worthwhile, and I personally admire your ability to withstand stress,” Markus said. 

“Oh.” Connor pulled out his coin and tossed it between his hands. “Thank you,” he said, staring at the ground. “I’ll adjust my data accordingly.” He didn’t mention that the statistics hadn’t been nudged much. That wasn’t the purpose of the gesture.

“Not to date myself by saying this,” David said, rubbing his nose with the palm of his hand, “but that was a big mood.” He went to take a drink before realizing his glass was empty. “Shit,” he muttered. “Gotta go.” And he wandered back to the bar. 

“He’s a valuable contact, but his conversational skills are…” Markus searched for a tactful word. “Still developing,” he finished.

“I’d be a hypocrite if I said I didn’t relate,” Connor said, spinning the coin on his finger before tossing it again. The dance lights shifted into a pastel pink and blue, spinning across the dance floor in intricate patterns. 

“You’re doing better than you think.” Markus watched the coin move between Connor’s hands for a moment. “Was there something you needed from me?” he asked, straightening up. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner.”

“Don’t be.” Connor caught the coin and put it in the pocket of his jacket, taking in an unnecessary breath. “I have an objective- I wanted to know if I could investigate- if I could visit the other greenhouse.” He didn’t know what to do with his hands. “I want to see more plants,” he said, and settled for clasping them behind his back. “If that’s not permissible, I understand,” he added.

Markus laughed. “It’s more than permissible,” he said, shaking his head. “Come on.” And he beckoned for Connor to follow him to the back of the greenhouse, winding through the crowd.

The bartender winked at them as Markus opened the bar flap and led Connor to the back, holding the door to the second greenhouse open for the RK800. “You boys have fun!” she said, raising the glass she was cleaning.

“That is insubordination,” Markus said, pointing at her. She laughed. 

When the door shut behind them, Connor whispered, “She once got her owner to adopt a stray cat without revealing her deviancy.”

Markus paused. “You’ve spoken to her?” he asked. He seemed impressed.

“Not… directly.”

“You really should. Andi is an exceptional conversationalist, and she’s been experimenting with creating the android equivalent of alcohol,” Markus said, turning on the fluorescent lights. They flickered and stuttered for a second before holding steady. 

There were many more plants in here. Shelf upon shelf of starts and cuttings and succulents lined the center, and on the sides were containers of larger plants, from shrubbery and small trees to berry bushes and houseplants. They seemed to fight for space, clustered together from corner to corner, leaves and twigs of different plants embracing where the branches spilled over the diameter of the containers. Connor forgot what he was going to say. 

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Markus looked out over it all with a small, proud smile. “Most of the established plants have been donated by local nurseries and gardeners. It’s not something I’m often a part of, but it’s been rewarding to watch the community bond over something so…” he waved a hand, struggling to find the word.

“Wholesome?” Connor offered. 

“Wholesome.” Markus looked over at Connor and nodded approvingly. “After so many years of hiding in the shadows, struggling for survival, to see the people of Jericho just planting beans in paper cups is so good.” He took a second to look around at everything. “I don’t come up here as often as I should,” he said, drawing his eyebrows together thoughtfully.

“There’s more,” Connor said lightly, trying not to seem too pushy. 

“There is. Shall we see the rest?” Markus began to walk toward the back, and didn’t have to turn to know he was being dutifully followed. At the far end, dim in the glow of the pale white light-

A trellis of roses. 

Connor stopped in his tracks, errant lines of code skittering across his processor. 

This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. 

He shouldn’t be here, alone, with the leader of the deviants. 

He stared at the red blooms and shivered. He was cold.

“I have to go,” he said, feedback whining in his head. He backed into the aisle. The leaves brushed against him, and he turned to leave. “I’m sorry. I can’t- I have to go.”

Markus’s response was fuzzy and vague beneath the feedback. He ignored it, and kept walking, rushing through the door. He fumbled with the latch on the bar flap before finally getting it open, and tried to walk as calmly as possible to the exit, pushing past guests and nearly knocking over a potted ivy near the door. He was dimly aware of someone following him. 

The stairs down. The path around the shipping containers, streamlined. The first warehouse, reach the first warehouse. 

Somewhere at the halfway point, the feedback quieted into a low hum. He stopped. Whoever had followed him through the greenhouse seemed to have given up. He leaned against a container and ran his diagnostics program. Nothing abnormal. Run again. Nothing abnormal. Run again. Nothing abnormal. 

He glanced in the direction of the main compound. Nothing abnormal, his ass.

OBJECTIVE: ENJOY YOURSELF  
OBJECTIVE: ENJOY YOU/  
OBJECTIVE: ENJ/  
OBJECTIVE:  
OBJECTIVE: GO HOME

He closed his eyes and called a cab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WoAh, nearly made myself dissociate with that last bit. Zoinks! Thank you for reading this far, and also for not assaulting me over robbing my boy of a good time. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter- it was kind of challenging to write, and I'm not sure I'm satisfied with it. 
> 
> Next up: Connor goes home and cries because the school dance was stupid. There is a high probability of emotional support plants being purchased. Stay tuned!


	8. I Might Be Malfunctioning, But I Need More Data To Know For Sure. Or More Plants.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes home and his dad is pissed that he stayed out too late partying with his friends.

By all rights, the car ride to Hank Anderson’s house should have involved a rainstorm. It would have done more to set the mood, and Connor was very serious about aesthetics these days. 

As it was, however, the blanket of clouds overlooking the city yielded no precipitation as the self-driving car carried him home. He tried not to spend the time ruminating. Instead, he spent it flipping his coin between his fingers and ruminating at the same time, which was more efficient. Multi-tasking was one of his many strengths. 

Why had he behaved so illogically? He reviewed the memory file over and over again, attempting to detect anomalies. There had to have been something dangerous in the moment for his flight response to have engaged so intensely. Suspicious movement in the greenhouse, a software malfunction, or some internal sign of another takeover. He was the most advanced android alive. Flowers couldn’t do that to him. Not even… those ones. 

He leaned back into the seat and held the coin still between his fingers, looking out the window. He’d need more data. He couldn’t draw a reasonable conclusion without analyzing more than one instance of this phenomenon, or ruling out potential causes. 

Of course, to rule out the possibility of other species of flowers inducing the same internal response, he would have to put himself into contact with more plants. 

OBJECTIVE: DETERMINE CAUSE OF GREENHOUSE INCIDENT  
>ASK HANK FOR PLANT NURSERY ADDRESS<  
>COLLECT DATA<

He looked at the coin and slid it into his pocket. 4 minutes, 13 seconds until arrival. Would Hank be awake? It was a Friday night- a Saturday morning, technically, since it was now 3:37 AM. If the nursery was android-run, there was a possibility it would still be open. If not, he could wait until later in the day. 6:00 AM, maybe. 

The light was on in the living room when the cab pulled up. 

[HANK IS AWAKE?]

He stepped out and pulled out his copy of the house key. When he approached the door, however, it was unlocked. 

“Hank?” he asked, stepping into the house. 

“In here, asshole.” 

[HANK IS IN THE KITCHEN]

He went over in quick strides. “I’m glad you’re still awake. I wanted to ask you a question about the nursery you visited the other day. There was a-”

Hank was sitting at the table, arms crossed over his chest. Half-empty bottle of Black Lamb on the kitchen counter, empty glass on the table.

[HANK IS INTOXICATED?]

“I’ve got a question for you,” Hank said, standing up. “Where in the actual fuck have you been for the past three hours?”

Connor stepped back. “I was at the party hosted by Jericho. Markus invited me to stay after my security obligations were fulfilled, and I thought it would be best if I attempted to make friends. That is what you told me to do.” 

“You didn’t think to send me one goddamn message?” Hank ran his hand through his hair and dropped it at his side. “You told me midnight, Connor. What the fuck was I supposed to think?”

Oh. “I’m sorry, Hank. I didn’t consider that you might be concerned.” His processors whirred. 

“Didn’t fucking consider… are you shitting me right now?” He grabbed the glass and went to the counter to pour himself more. “You didn’t fucking consider that I might be concerned after you got torn to shit last month?” He pointed the bottle of whiskey at Connor.

“That was a misunderstanding-”

“Fuck that bullshit line. And fuck you.” Hank tipped the glass back.

The feedback whine grew louder, and Connor shook his head. “You shouldn’t be drinking, Lieutenant,” he said. “This isn’t a healthy method of coping with emotional distress.” 

Hank ignored him and went to fill the glass again.

“Stop that.” Connor approached him, his hand outstretched to take the glass. Hank moved out of the way. “Hank, stop it.” The whining grew louder. He reached again.

“No, no,” Hank said, shaking a finger. “I think this is the least I deserve after the shit that you’ve put me through tonight.”

Connor scanned him. BAC .11%. “If you keep this up, the amount of alcohol in your bloodstream could become dangerous,” he said, and walked closer.

“Sounds good to me,” Hank said, and tipped the glass back again. The feedback drowned out the sound of his drinking. He was being self-destructive. He was being cruel. This was not okay, it wasn’t-

Connor lunged and hit the glass out of his hand. Hank spluttered as it hit the floor and shattered. 

They stared down at the mess of broken glass for a moment, stunned.

Hank looked up at Connor, and his expression twisted. “Get out of my house,” he growled.

“I-”

Hank shoved him backwards. “Get out!” He shoved him again. “I didn’t ask for a fucking babysitter. I don’t need you messing with my shit and fucking with my head-” he pushed Connor toward the door- “And I especially don’t need you to tell me when the fuck I can drink.” He gave a final shove, and Connor staggered a bit.

“I didn’t think-”

“Damn right you didn’t think!” Hank clenched his fists at his sides. “Go the fuck to Jericho if you’re so buddy-buddy with Markus now that you can’t think to let me know you’re alive.”

“But-”

“GO, Connor.” He pointed at the front door. “I don’t want to fucking see you for the rest of the night.”

Connor opened his mouth to protest, but something about Hank’s expression stopped him. He closed it and nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He looked back. 

Hank’s shoulders sagged for a second, and he looked like he might recant his decision, but he shook his head and tossed his keys to Connor. “Take my car, and don’t be fucking stupid out there. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

The feedback softened, but Connor’s processors still felt unstable as he went out the door, shutting it behind himself. He’d go to Jericho. They’d talk tomorrow. 

But he realized as he sat in the driver’s seat and fastened his seatbelt that going to Jericho wouldn’t be an option. What would he tell Markus about his… whatever that had been? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He hadn’t meant to worry Hank.

OBJECTIVE: GO TO JERICHO?  
>RECONNECT WITH MARKUS<  
>ASK PERMISSION TO STAY<

Markus was busy. He couldn’t possibly have time to fuss about a minor instability. That might mean he would brush it off quickly, or it might mean he would take it as a sign that Connor could not perform his duties effectively. That would potentially stall the efforts being put toward getting the DPD to hire him on again. What if they deemed him unfit to even work as head of security on future occasions?

STRESS LEVEL: 63%^

Connor looked out at the living room window. The lights were still on. What if he went back inside and explained his dilemma?

No. Hank was emotionally compro- he was hurt. If his boundaries were crossed again, their relationship would be further damaged, and that would be unfortunate for both of them. 

[GO TO JERICHO]  
[ENTER HANK’S HOUSE]  
[STAY IN THE CAR UNTIL MORNING]  
[FIND ANOTHER PLACE TO STAY]

The lights went off inside the house. Hank must be going to bed.

STRESS LEVEL: 57%v

Connor started up the car. He could drive around until he determined his next course of action. It would prevent him from using more of his processing power on upsetting himself further, and maybe he could find the nursery on his own.

He straightened up in the seat. 

OBJECTIVE: DETERMINE THE LOCATION OF THE PLANT NURSERY

He turned to look out the back window as he reversed. It had to be on the way between Hank’s house and the DPD, because as thoughtful as Hank could be, the plants had been an impulsive decision. He knew the route Hank took every day to and from work. 

There was a 28% chance that the nursery was illegally run by androids, and an even greater chance that the owners were pro-android, regardless of species. If run by androids, 64% chance that it would be open all hours of the night. It was an accomodation many deviants- many androids were making for each other to avoid as much human interaction as possible. If run by androids and open at night, lights would be off to deter humans, but there would be a signal of some sort. The statistics were not favorable, but he couldn’t help but cling to the possibility of a positive outcome.

He had money in his account from the night’s work, and it would be beneficial to his research to purchase new plants, after all.

There. The only nursery en route to Precinct 07. 

He parked the car in front of the building and scanned it through the window, prepared to leave if he found nothing. 

The sign above the entrance lit up blue in his vision: DETROIT NURSERY AND DEMO GARDENS.

[SIGN IS PAINTED OVER IN THIRIUM?]

[FONT: CYBERLIFE SANS]

He smiled despite himself and removed the key from the ignition, stepping out of the car and locking it. He went to the front door and knocked. 

After a moment, the door slowly opened, and half a face peeked through the gap, looking up at him beneath the chain of a lock. The eye he could see glanced up at his LED, and the door shut quickly. The sound of the chain being removed and left to dangle. The door opened again.

“Hello!” An android grinned at him, turning on the lights. “Come in, come in! I’m Nigel.”

“Nice to meet you.” He stepped inside and looked around. “My name is Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's so nice to end on a good note. I couldn't make everything all better too fast, but GOD it was making me upset having to produce so much conflict. It might be the armature of any good story, but goddamnit I want my children to be happy. (Then again, the challenge of finding new ways to mess with them is a joy in itself, so I won't complain too much.) I feel like I rushed this chapter, so there's a high likelihood that I'll go back through and make minor edits in the near future, but I'd rather get it posted than be too finicky about pacing for this one. I hope you can forgive me a bit of laziness.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think so far! What do you think's going to happen when Hank finds out Connor didn't actually go to Jericho? Can you guess what happened to make everyone so paranoid about Connor leaving the house without supervision? Am I asking these questions to get you to comment or am I trying to steal plot ideas from my readers?
> 
> Find out next time on Total! Drama! Greenhouse!
> 
> Next up: Connor finally bonds with someone who truly understands the joys of infodumping about plants, Hank has regrets, and Markus is hella confused.


	9. Is This What It's Like To Feel Understood? ...It's Weird.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets a fellow plant enthusiast and begins to realize that not everyone thinks he's hot garbage.

The inside of the nursery was somehow more captivating than Connor had expected, even in the tail end of winter. The shelves were lined with beautiful containers and small garden decorations, metal birds and glass flowers and garden gnomes. Hanging baskets of pothos and spider plants and philodendrons hung from hooks in the ceiling, succulents were clustered in dishes of pebbles and sand, and in every corner there were indoor plants- Kentia palms, Fiddle-leaf Figs, Adeniums...

"Well, what do you think?" Nigel asked, smiling as he led Connor through the store. "It's small, but it's mine."

“You own all of this?” Connor asked, picking up a ceramic hummingbird and turning it over in his hand.

“Yes!” Nigel said, then shrugged. “Well, not technically. My mother, she’s a human- my former owner, actually, but she’s always treated me like family, and you know.” He trailed off and picked up an overturned bag of fertilizer. “If we’re really being technical, she stole me from the city. Anyway!” He put the bag upright on the bottom shelf and clapped his hands. “She owns it, but she gave it to me.”

Connor nodded slowly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m a rambling mess. I don’t get a lot of android visitors, and especially not anyone with such a complex reputation as yours.” Nigel ducked his head sheepishly. “Are you here to buy plants? I have plenty.”

“You know who I am?” Connor asked, and reached his hand into his pocket, holding his coin but not taking it out.

“Hard not to, isn’t it? I mean, with the whole revolution, and then the RK800 intel leak, and of course-” Nigel broke off as he glanced at Connor. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want me bringing that up. I’m terrible at this, I’m sorry.” He gestured awkwardly at a pot. “Do you like amaryllis? I’m growing some.”

“I do like amaryllis.” Connor said, but didn’t look away from Nigel’s face. “You don’t care that it’s my fault the humans found Jericho?” 

“It was your programming.” Nigel shrugged. “I remember what it was like before I woke up. If they wanted me to trim a hedge, I trimmed a hedge, and if they wanted me to pull the hedge up even if I’d just trimmed it, I pulled the hedge up. You know?” He shook his head disbelievingly. “I mean, I know it’s different for a lot of people, because nobody died when I trimmed that hedge, but it’s not like you had a choice, right?” He moved a pot two inches to the left on the shelf and squinted at it. “Besides, it sounds like you’ve gotten enough hate to avenge two Jerichos, even if you had chosen to do what you did.” He moved the pot two inches to the right and nodded, satisfied.

Connor pulled his hand out of his pocket and left the coin alone. “They would have deactivated me if I hadn’t located the freighter. I had to do it,” he said, and it wasn’t the other android he was trying to convince. 

“Yeah, see?” Nigel sat on the floor next to the shelf. “Maybe it’d be different if I’d known somebody there at the time. But I’ve been living here since last spring, you know? No stakes in it for me. Only met some of their people after Liberation Day.” He gestured for Connor to sit, too.

“How did you survive the raids?” Connor asked as he sat on his knees.

“Gwen kept me buried in a compost pile while they were sweeping through. Nobody wanted to dig in there to find an android.” Nigel grinned. 

A buzzer went off somewhere and Connor flinched.

“Just a timer! Don’t worry,” Nigel said, standing up and rushing into a back room. “Had my kokedamas soaking, and now it’s time to take them out of the water,” he called across the store.

Connor took in a deep breath, even though he didn’t need it. It was strange to be recognized like this, by someone who didn’t care about what he’d done. Not just forgave him, but didn’t think he should be held accountable in the first place. Like Hank, or Markus, or Josh. Were they right?

He still hadn’t answered any of Markus’s communication requests. What would he say? ‘I apologize for abandoning you in a greenhouse, but I saw flowers that I didn’t like and experienced some sort of malfunction’? As Hank would say, fuck that.

Speaking of flowers, he was here for a reason. He stood up.

OBJECTIVE: EXPLORE NURSERY  
>COLLECT DATA<

“Nigel, do you have any flowers I could analy- look at?” Connor asked, walking into the back room.

The maintenance android was lifting moss balls with plants growing out of them[?] from an industrial-grade stainless steel kitchen sink half-filled with water and squeezing the excess liquid out of them. “I have plenty of flowering plants, yes,” he said, setting one down on a wooden table in the center of the room. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” He wiped his hands on a towel and leaned against the table. 

“Not in particular, no.” Connor looked around. There were even more plants in here, and starts under rows of grow lights, stacked on shelving made of PVC pipe and chicken wire. “What is your favorite flower?”

Nigel smiled. “Nobody’s asked me that before,” he said. “I do have a favorite, but none are in bloom this time of year. I was planning on planting some tomorrow.” He walked over to a desk in the corner and pulled a box from beneath it, reaching in and grabbing a seed packet. He took it to Connor. “Here,” he said.

“Love-in-a-Mist,” the RK800 read out loud, turning over the packet.

“Nigella Damascena.” Nigel stared fondly at it. “Gwen named me after it, and she always says it was because it’s a symbol of ‘the bonds that bind people together.’ Personally, I think it’s because one of its alternate names is ‘devil-in-a-bush,’ and it’s one of the strangest flowers I’ve ever seen.” He laughed.

“Fascinating,” Connor said, reading the care instructions. “CyberLife chose my name for me. It means-”

“‘Lover of hounds,’” Nigel finished.

Connor raised his eyebrows. “Yes,” he said. “I thought WR600s weren’t equipped with access to the Internet.”

The other android walked to the sink to finish lifting the moss balls out of the water. “We won’t until someone releases a patch for it,” he said. “I manually downloaded a book of baby names a few weeks ago so that I wouldn’t have to think too much when choosing designations for my plants.” He squeezed the water out of the last ball and placed it on the table. “So are you?”

“Am I what?” Connor tilted his head.

“Are you a lover of hounds?” Nigel pulled the plug out of the sink’s drain and dried his hands, looking to the RK800 for an answer.

Connor gave him a small smile. “I do like dogs,” he admitted. “My friend, Hank, has a Saint Bernard named Sumo, and he’s a very good boy.”

“What’s Hank like?” Nigel pulled up two wooden stools and sat down, resting his hands in his lap. He motioned for Connor to do the same.

“He has a lot of personal issues, but he’s loyal and courageous and he cares about my wellbeing,” Connor said as he sat. “He lets me live in his house and doesn’t get upset when I move his things around, even though the change has been difficult for him. He got me plants a few days ago simply because I can’t leave home often and it makes me frustrated.” His shoulders relaxed. “He’s perpetually concerned for my safety. I forgot to tell him that I was staying out later than expected tonight, and he yelled at me when I got home. Not because I had failed an objective,” Connor said, looking down at his hands, “but because he was frightened by the prospect that I may have been harmed.”

“So he’s like your father?” Nigel asked, shifting in his seat.

Connor thought for a moment. Was he? Did Hank fit the qualifications for ‘father figure’? This was a line of inquiry he’d never thought to explore.

Nigel sat up. “It’s okay if you don’t know,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question.”

“There was no offense in it,” Connor said, shaking his head. “But… I just realized I should probably inform him that I didn’t go to Jericho like he told me to. There is a high probability that if I don’t, he’ll lose his shit… as the saying goes.” 

“Oh! By all means, send him a message!”

Outgoing message to Contact: [Lt. Hank Anderson]  
//I went to Detroit Nursery and Demo Gardens instead of going to Jericho. I’m sorry. I promise I have a good explanation for doing so, but I’d rather discuss in person. Call me when you want me to come back home. P.S. I’m safe and making a new friend :)

Connor opened his eyes after sending it. “So what is Gwen like?” he asked.

“She’s just wonderful. I met her in the park one day, shortly after I woke up, and she felt bad for me because I was upset that they’d told me to pull up a bush that I really liked, so she took me home and hired me to take care of the nursery for her, and I don’t think she even realized I was an android until about the fourth time she offered me snacks…”

OBJECTIVE: EXPLORE NURSERY  
OBJECTIVE: EXPL/  
OBJECTIVE:  
OBJECTIVE: BEFRIEND NIGEL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A GOOD FLUFFY CHAPTER MY DUDES! Connor made a new friend! And he remembered to text his dad that he went rogue and didn't go to Jericho like he was told! And I got to provide you guys with copious amounts of plant content!
> 
> Does my boy Nigel pass the friendship test? He's the same model as Ralph, for visual reference. In this timeline, Kara and Alice stayed in the hotel instead of in the abandoned building, so Connor never met Ralph.
> 
> Also! I wanted to know if any of you would be interested in reading more stories like this? I'm considering turning this into a series of fics or one big fic with multiple one-shots and arcs, because there are way too many elements that I've introduced in this fic that I'd love to explore more. I may ask for prompts as well. I don't know, I'm just excited to be writing again!
> 
> Next up: Hank wakes up with regrets, Markus is hella confused and concerned, and Sumo wants more food because he is a growing boy.


	10. Have You Seen My Son??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank wakes up with a splitting headache, a ringing phone, and a laundry list of regrets.
> 
> Alternate title: "Where's the Baby?" "I Thought You Had Him!"

Hank was used to waking up feeling like trash. This, though? This was a fresh new level of hell.

His head pounded as he sat up in bed, and the rest of his body was just as pissed at him. He ran his hand down his face and groaned. He wished he could pick up last night in a plastic bag and chuck it in the garbage like a pile of dog shit. Never think of it again.

At least he'd given the kid his car keys. He huffed at the thought. Way to go, Anderson, you kicked the homeless six-month-old android out of your house in the middle of an anti-android crime wave, but at least you let him borrow your car. Human of the year. 

When had his phone started ringing? He leaned to grab it off the edge of his bed.

“Hank Anderson,” he said gruffly, eyes half open.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Anderson. It’s Markus.”

“Oh.” Hank leaned back against the headboard. “Listen, tell Connor I’m sorry and he’s free to come back here whenever he feels like it. I was just stupid and drunk, and-”

“He never came home?” Markus’s voice was strained.

Hank’s stomach twisted. “Yeah, he did,” he said slowly, “but I fucked up and I told him to go back to Jericho.” He tossed the blankets off of himself and got out of bed. “Please, for the love of God or rA9 or whoever the fuck, tell me that he’s there with you, Markus.”

“He left late last night without warning and never came back,” Markus said. “He seemed distressed, and isn’t returning my calls.”

He felt like puking. “Shit. I gotta go find him.” He yanked on a half-way decent shirt and hopped around with the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder as he struggled to get his jeans on. 

“Did he try to come here on foot?”

Hank scowled, wrestling with his zipper. “No, he’s in my car.” He stopped cold. “Fuck. He’s in my car.”

“All right. I’ll try to get us a ride, and you call him and make sure he didn’t just stay somewhere else for the night.”

“Okay.” Hank went into the kitchen. “Wait, who’s ‘us?’” he asked.

“I assumed it would be acceptable if I came with you.”

“Yeah… yeah, sure. Guess I’ll see you here, then.” 

“Goodbye, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Markus hung up and Hank stared down at his phone for a second. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Connor,” he said, his thumb hovering over the screen. 

[1 New Message]  
[Connor: I went to Detroit Nursery and Demo Gardens… (swipe to read more)]

He sat down at the kitchen table and sighed after reading the text, pinching the bridge of his nose. Whoever said androids made life easier had been lying through their teeth. 

He called Markus back, and the RK200 picked up immediately.

“Were you able to make contact?” he asked.

Hank scoffed. “Yeah. He’s at a plant store, apparently.”

Silence on the other end of the line. “I was expecting something more along the lines of another attempted murder,” Markus admitted. “Not that this isn’t a pleasant alternative, but…” 

“No kidding.” Hank shifted back in the chair as Sumo trotted up to him, softly woofing. “He says he has a good explanation, and he’d better be right.”

“I could use a good explanation,” Markus said, his voice betraying a hint of exhaustion. 

Hank scratched Sumo behind the ears with one hand. “You still want to come with?” he asked. “I can just have him drive back and meet me here.” Sumo woofed again and tried to lead him to the bag of dog food, turning back to look at him with big, sappy eyes.

“Would it be inconvenient for you if I said yes?” Markus asked, almost sheepish. “I have a feeling that he won’t be giving me answers any time soon, and it would be nice to have a break from my work.”

So even androids got sick of work sometimes. “Shit, don’t let me stop you,” he said, standing to get the big dog another scoopful of kibble. “Might be good for him.” God knows Hank wasn’t the greatest person to lecture the kid about not running from his problems. Especially after last night. 

“I’ll be there in a half hour,” Markus said.

When the call was over, Hank poured himself a large glass of water and took a few tablets of Advil, making a mental list of all the things he’d have to apologize for. It was a long list. Maybe it was a bad idea letting Android Jesus tag along for what was clearly going to be an awkward, messy conversation.

He leaned against the counter and watched Sumo nudge the food dish around as he ate, the sound of kibble crunching and metal scraping the kitchen floor filling the room. He fished his phone out of his pocket and started typing.

//Markus and i will be there in a little while to talk 2 u. Glad ur ok, but u scared the shit out of us. Sry about last night. 

[Message Sent.]

He looked over at Connor’s hanging philodendron. Since when had it become his job to track down and lecture an android for staying out too late without calling and for wandering off to look at plants instead of going where he was told? 

“Jesus Christ,” he said, looking forlornly at Sumo. “I’m turning into my mother.”

The Saint Bernard only wagged his tail in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Markus and Hank: What do we do when we're having a hard time? Come on, repeat after me. 
> 
> M,H: We confront...  
> Connor: We confront.  
> M,H: Our...  
> Connor: Our.  
> M,H: Problems.  
> Connor: Problems.
> 
> Markus: Good! Now say it all together.   
> Connor: We don't say anything and run away to hang out in a plant nursery!
> 
> Hank: NO
> 
> Next up: Connor freaks out because his dad's coming to pick him up and it's bound to end in a long, heartfelt conversation, which is not his vibe at all.


	11. I Guess We All Fell Short

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is confronted by Hank and Markus and is forced to talk about his feelings. Nigel is an awkward bystander, and it is uncomfortable for all involved.

The hours passed quickly as Connor and Nigel slowly migrated around the store, talking about plants and dogs and the nature of sentience. 

“...And that’s why I don’t think it matters whether plants have the capacity for thought,” Nigel said. “If what makes us living is the ability to feel, and plants exhibit responses to stimuli in ways reminiscent of emotion, then what’s there to think about? Be nice to the babies!” He waved his hand at a tray of Venus flytraps beneath a plastic dome.

Connor nodded. “That’s exactly the conclusion I came to,” he said, tapping the plastic and peering in at the carnivorous plants. “Would you consider blackberry plants herbivores or omnivores?”

Nigel lit up. “Oh, omnivores for sure. Their thorns give them the ability to unwittingly trap animals, and they use the nutrients those animals leave in the soil. I don’t believe in herbivorous plants, honestly, because what plant doesn’t feed off of animal matter?” He lifted the dome and took a pair of tweezers from the bottom of the tray, feeding the little plants from a tin of dried mealworms and tickling their traps to encourage a seal. 

Connor tilted his head. “That’s an interesting point of view,” he said, watching the traps close around the mealworms. “Do you think-”

Incoming message from Contact: [Lt. Hank Anderson]  
//Markus and i will be there in a little while to talk 2 u. Glad ur ok, but u scared the shit out of us. Sry about last night.

“Oh.” Connor’s hands fell to his sides as he opened his eyes. “Hank’s coming.”

Nigel set the dome down over the tray. “It’ll be nice to see him again,” he said, smiling.

“He’s with Markus,” Connor said, his LED spinning yellow. “They’re upset with me.”

“I thought you told him where you were?” 

“Not Markus.” Connor pulled out his calibration coin and began to flick it back and forth. “It’s complicated.”

Nigel nodded, and was silent for a moment. “Could you tell me about it while we wait?” he asked, heading to the front to unlock the door and turn over the sign.

There wasn’t a good reason not to. Connor followed him, and leaned against the wall. “I experienced a malfunction of some sort last night,” he began, listening to the sound of the coin as he calibrated. “I was in the greenhouse on the roof of the main building…”

\--- [scene loading… please wait]---  
\---[loading complete]--

The self-driving car that drove up in front of Hank’s house was a little too fancy for his tastes, but what else could he have expected from Carl Manfred’s kid? 

“Lieutenant Anderson.” Markus’s smile was polite, and he held out his hand.

“Hank is fine.” They shook, and Hank shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, how are we gonna do this?” he asked, peering over the android’s shoulder at the car. “You be good cop, I’ll be bad cop?” 

“It’s not an interrogation,” the RK200 said, and Hank was ready to write him off, but then he added, “but I wouldn’t mind being bad cop for once.”

Hank snorted. “You don’t have what it takes.” 

The car ride with Android Jesus was slightly less awkward than he’d expected.

\--- [scene loading… please wait]---  
\---[loading complete]--

The ringing of the bell at the front of the plant store startled Connor, and he nearly dropped his coin as Hank walked in.

“Oh, thank fuck.” The man’s face lost some of its tension.

“Lieutenant.” The RK800’s back straightened. He tilted his head to see Markus walking up shortly behind, and he began to flick his coin back and forth again. 

“I’ll go take inventory,” Nigel said, glancing between the three. “Got some plants to plant, you know, and fertilizer that needs… sorting.” 

“Actually, I’d like to talk to you for a moment,” Markus said, walking up to him. “Would you mind showing me the demo gardens?” He gestured to the back door.

“Oh!” Nigel looked at Hank and Connor, and back at Markus. “Yes, sir, Mr. Markus. They’re lovely this time of year- bare shrubbery, cold dirt, and tarps as far as the eye can see.” He led the leader of Jericho to the far end of the store, chattering all the way. 

This was going to be terrible. 

“Look, I know…” Hank looked up at the ceiling, taking in a breath. “I know that I’m a fuck-up, and it’s not easy to talk to me even on my better days, all right? I get it.” He tried to meet the android’s eyes. “But you can’t pull this shit every time something messes you up. Take it from me.” 

“You aren’t a fuck-up.” Connor stared at the floor.

Hank scoffed. “That’s what you got outta that?” He crossed his arms. “I’m serious, what if you got caught out in the snow again? What happens if some asshole takes a shot at you and we can’t get to you in time because you said you were in one place and you’re off on the other side of the city?” His voice started to rise in volume. “You know how many androids we’ve seen dead in the streets in the past week?” he asked, gesturing out the window. “And they didn’t have a fucking target on their back on both sides of this!”

“I can handle myself, Lieutenant,” Connor said, glaring at him. “I was programmed for combat.”

“That’s not the point! You don’t have to handle yourself. I know-” Hank lowered his voice. “I know CyberLife fucked you up, and you’ve been through some shit, but you’re not a one-man army, for fuck’s sake,” he said, taking a few steps toward the android. “And maybe this doesn’t mean a lot coming from me, but whether you like it or not, there are people who give a shit about what happens to you now.”

The coin stopped in his left hand and stayed there. “I’m sorry.”

Hank nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have gotten pissed at you for not calling, and I shouldn’t have gotten drunk, and I really fucking shouldn’t have kicked you out, especially not with what’s been going on.” He cringed. “That was fucked up.”

“You were right to be upset. I was inconsiderate.”

“You were having a good time. I pulled the same shit all the time when I was a kid.” 

“I’m not a child, Hank. Androids don’t-”

“Bullshit.” Hank pointed at him. “You’re a six-month-old in the body of a grown man, and you’ve had free will for what, three months now?” He counted on his fingers. “Yeah, three months.”

“I’m old enough to know better.” Connor wasn’t pouting. He didn’t pout. “My processor is the most advanced there is.” He stopped tossing the coin and slipped it into his pocket.

“And I’ve got 53 years of experience behind me. Guess we both fell short.” Hank shrugged.

Spinning yellow turned to spinning blue. “I’m sorry I didn’t go to Jericho.”

“Yeah, what was that about?” Hank asked, his expression more concerned than judgemental. “Markus said you freaked out at the party.”

“I…” Yellow, blue, yellow. His shoulders fell. “I malfunctioned. I thought that Markus might be in danger if I stayed, even though there was no evidence to support it.” He didn’t need to mention the roses. It wasn’t important. “My fight-or-flight system kicked in, and I left. I didn’t want to go back until I had ascertained the cause of the malfunction and addressed the problem.”

Hank sighed. “You don’t have to call it a malfunction,” he said. 

Incoming message from Contact: [Markus]  
//Do you need more time? 

“That’s all it was,” Connor insisted.

Outgoing message to Contact: [Markus]  
//You can come back in if you want to; the bulk of the conversation is over. Thank you.

“Bullshit. What did your scans say?”

Silence. That wasn’t fair.

“Connor, what did your scans say?”

“...They said that I was functioning optimally. Nothing abnormal.”

The back door opened, interrupting whatever Hank was about to say, and Markus and Nigel approached them, the WR600 still practically bouncing with nervous energy. 

Incoming message from Contact: [Markus]  
//Would it be simpler for you to perform a partial interface?

Connor locked eyes with him for a second, running an analysis of his options. Finally, he nodded. This would be slightly less painful than a conversation.

Markus smiled and raised his hand, allowing the synthetic skin to recede as Connor did the same. 

“This will only take a moment,” Markus assured him, and grasped his forearm.

the party and the lights and the people passing by and they’re entering the greenhouse the plants are lovely the second time around and markus is walking to the back and he follows and the roses stop him cold he has to get out he doesn’t belong here he’s a danger he has to get out he leaves and it is cold outside and there is nothing abnormal

And the connection ended, the two separating. 

“I see.” Markus frowned. 

“I can still function. I’m stable.” Connor steps away, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“That’s not under question.” The RK200 turned his head slightly, looking at a tray of succulents. “My presence causes you distress,” he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

“It wasn’t you-”

“I know that, I was there.” Markus rubbed his eyes. “This is still an issue I need to take into account, and you should do the same.”

Nigel quietly raised his hand.

“Yes?” Connor asked him.

“If this is about the roses, I can take care of them,” the WR600 said, fidgeting.

“That would be a good solution for this particular situation,” Markus said, turning to face the gardener. “Would you mind?” 

“What roses? What are you talking about?” Hank asked.

STRESS LEVEL: 50%^

“Don’t!” Connor said. “You don’t have to remove them. I’ll just stay away from the greenhouse.”

“What roses?”

STRESS LEVEL: 53%^

Markus shook his head. “It only makes sense to remove them. They don’t belong to anyone in particular, and your health is more important than flowers.”

“I don’t mind taking them,” Nigel said. “I like them.”

“What fucking roses?”

STRESS LEVEL: 58%^

“It doesn’t matter!” Connor snapped. “They don’t matter.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “We shouldn’t even have to talk about this. It was a momentary instability, and it won’t happen again.” Yellow, yellow, yellow. “I’m functioning at optimal levels,” he said.

There was a moment of silence.

“You need rest,” Markus said, staring at him. “We can talk about this at another time, in another place.”

He didn’t have the energy to retort, which was probably proof that Markus was right.

“Okay, let’s just go home,” Hank said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Sumo’s waiting.”

Connor pulled out his coin and held it tight, nodding. 

The goodbyes were deeply uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boy! That was challenging, I'm not going to lie. I hope I did the scene justice and it all made sense?
> 
> Whatever, the deed is done. I can't believe I only have one chapter left to write! I am now officially accepting prompts and requests for the next few fics in this series, because while I feel I've nearly exhausted the potential of this one, I intend to keep improving my craft and exploring my version of the world and characters. 
> 
> Next up: Connor realizes he still has money and buys more plants, but needs solutions for the lack of space and light. VIVA LA RESOLUTION!


	12. I'm Only Leaving The House Because My Dad's Taste In Movies Is Garbage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank's a jerk and tricks Connor into having a social life.

//01010011 01101111 01101101 01100101 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 01110011//

The light filtered through the blinds, shining through the leaves of the philodendron in stripy shades of emerald, like stained glass in an abandoned church. What did it feel like to perform photosynthesis? Was it like being attached to a charging port? Would it be boring to sit in a hanging basket for a lifetime, or would it be pleasant to live unfettered by thought or responsibility, only concerned with drinking water through tangled roots and converting the light of the sun into glucose?

Hank was away at work, and it was making Connor philosophical, and bored. 

OBJECTIVE: OCCUPY YOURSELF  
>WATER PLANTS [0/3]<

He went to the kitchen and filled a measuring cup with water, rearranging his personal files for the 12th time in the past hour. There was no original protocol for emotional data, and sentimentality could not be categorized alphanumerically.

Still, if there was a good algorithm for sorting pictures of Sumo, he’d find it.

//01001001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110011 01101000//

OBJECTIVE: OCCUPY YOURSELF  
>WATER PLANTS [3/3]<

//01001001 00100000 01101000 01100001 01100100 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100101 01101110 00100000//

OBJECTIVE: OCCUPY YOURSELF  
>GO INTO STASIS UNTIL HANK COMES HOME?<

//01100100 01100101 01100001 01100011 01110100 01101001 01110110 01100001 01110100 01100101 01100100//

STASIS INITIATED.

\--- [scene loading… please wait]---  
\---[loading complete]---

The sound of the front door opening jolted him out of stasis. 

“Hey.” Hank walked into the living room, looking around as he shed his jacket. “No big projects today?”

“No,” Connor said simply. “I’m running out of unintrusive design plans.” 

“Huh. All right.”

They went through the motions of the evening, Hank digging out old DVDs and introducing Connor to “the classics,” and Connor politely sitting through them, sorting through hundreds of essays, analyses, and reviews of each film as it played. Empty beer bottles quietly lined up beside the couch, fewer than the night before, and the night before that. This was progress.

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes into the third movie that Hank turned to talk to him about something other than a dead actor.

“You haven’t been back to the nursery, have you?” he asked, setting his drink down on the end table.

“Not recently,” Connor admitted.

“Why not? I thought you loved that place.”

A gentle entrance into an interrogation. He knew this tactic. “I enjoy being there, yes. I just haven’t gotten around to visiting again.” Connor adjusted the hem of his own T-shirt and analyzed the components of the fabric. 80% cotton, 20% polyester. Fascinating. 

“Too busy napping?” Hank’s voice was light, and his eyes were on the screen, but the words still felt like a condemnation.

“Androids don’t nap, they go into stasis.”

A deep sigh. Hank scratched at his beard. “Look, I don’t want you to feel like I’m bossing you around, okay?” He looked at Connor. “But it can’t be good for you to be… I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I don’t like that you’re stuck here by yourself all day. You should hang out at Nigel’s every once in a while, or something.”

Ah, there it was. “I will,” Connor said, and pretended to watch the film. 

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. I’ll go,” he said. The male protagonist was wooing the female protagonist by showing her a part of his life he usually kept secret. A symbol of vulnerability, a professor of literature said in an essay.

Hank leaned back into the couch. “All right, prove it,” he said, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “Go tonight if you’re gonna go at all.”

The female protagonist snuck up behind the male and incapacitated him, delivering a pithy line as he fell unconscious. Connor would roll his eyes if he weren’t trying to break himself of the habit. “This is a very predictable plot twist,” he said, nodding his head toward the TV. 

“Yeah,” Hank said, chuckling. “But that’s not the point. It’s supposed to be-” he stopped himself and narrowed his eyes at the android. “Don’t change the subject, Connor,” he said. “I’m not kidding, it’s been a week, and I keep getting ‘automated’ advertisements for the place every time I try to watch a Vine compilation.”

“Invest in a pop-up blocker.” Blows were being exchanged on-screen. 

Hank huffed. “You can’t just ghost everybody.”

He most certainly could, but this wasn’t an argument worth winning. And in light of the badly done fight scene currently playing out, the thought of seeing all of the plants again and talking about flowers with Nigel was becoming more attractive. One of the actors clearly had no idea what it’s like to be stabbed repeatedly. “Fine,” he said, not looking away. “I’ll call a cab when you go to bed.”

The older man’s eyes flicked to the screen and back. “All right, deal,” he said after a moment. 

“How am I supposed to believe he survived that?” Connor pointed at the character. “The knife was serrated and went through several vital organs.”

Hank picked up the remote and paused the movie. “You know, Connor, you are great at a lot of things, but appreciating good movies is not one of them,” he said, pulling himself up off of the couch and stretching. The sound of his joints popping was like gunfire, and he groaned.

“What are you doing?” Connor jerked his head away to stare at him, eyes wide. 

“Headin’ to bed.” The man smirked. “Guess you’d better call that cab.”

Oh. Connor scowled. “It is an hour before your usual bedtime, Lieutenant.” 

“What can I say? I’m worn out.” Hank shut off the TV and tossed the remote to Connor. “Better luck next time, rookie.”

“I should have left you on that street corner when I had the chance,” Connor said, crossing his arms.

Hank laughed. “But you didn’t.”

\--- [scene loading… please wait]---  
\---[loading complete]---

Nigel was happy to see him, and wouldn’t stop saying as much when he opened the door to the nursery.

“I planted the first wave of veggie seeds the other day!” The WR600 all but yanked him to the back room. “And some of the flowers are sprouting in the greenhouse, which means that pretty soon we’ll have the income from those starts, and I’ll be able to buy supplies for a better watering system in the greenhouses.”

“I’ll help you install it if you want me to,” Connor said, picking up a potted white violet plant and putting one finger in the soil in order to test it. “I’ve found I like building things.” He placed the dirt on his tongue. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Nigel waved his hands, lunging for the pot. “What are you doing?” 

Connor blinked and handed him the plant. “I’m testing the soil’s Ph levels,” he said. 

The other android spluttered, and if he’d had an LED it would be spinning wildly. “You’re what? You can do that?” He set the pot back down on its shelf. “Why’d they program you to do that?”

“I’m equipped with a highly advanced forensic analysis system designed to aid in investigations,” Connor said, straightening his back. “That soil has a Ph level of 6.8, which is within the ideal range for violets.”

Nigel barked out a laugh. “I have test kits that could have told you that. You didn’t have to lick dirt.”

"It makes sense to-" The sound of the front door opening and shutting made him pause and turn his head. "Another android?" he asked.

"Probably. Nobody else mentioned they were coming tonight, but that doesn't mean much." Nigel shrugged.

Connor followed him out of the back room, running a scan as soon as he could get a visual. Overdramatic coat, mismatched eyes, and the rugged grace of a philosopher king-

"Markus!" Nigel said, practically running at the RK200. "It's so good to see you. How is the greenhouse project going?" He bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“I think it’s going well.” Markus smiled, and met Connor’s eyes. “Oh, you’re here too?” he asked.

“Um.” Connor mapped out his exits. “Yes, apparently,” he said, trying for a smile of his own. “How is everyone doing in New Jericho?” he asked, slipping his hand in his jacket pocket.

“They’re adapting. It’s been difficult getting all of the resources we need, even with the space and supplies that CyberLife gave us. Negotiations are ongoing, as usual.” Markus’s smile faded a bit. “But all things said and done, we’re making good progress.” 

“I’ve been supplying their greenhouse with plants,” Nigel said. 

“That’s good,” Connor said, and fiddled with the coin in his pocket. He wished he had more to say. He wasn’t good at this.

Markus watched him for a second, tilting his head. “Speaking of New Jericho, I should probably get back,” he told them, fixing the collar on his jacket. “I just planned on loitering for a while, to be honest, but you’ve just reminded me of something I need to take care of.” He turned toward the front door.

“No, wait.” Connor stepped toward him. “You should stay.”

The RK200 looked over his shoulder at him. “Are you sure?” he asked. 

Was he?

“Yes,” he said firmly. “If you want to be useful to your people for a prolonged period of time, you should take time to rest.” It wasn’t a lie, and seemed better than ‘I’d rather you not leave just because I’m socially incompetent.’

“You might be right.” Markus looked conflicted.

“Connor licked dirt!” Nigel blurted.

Markus stared at the RK800, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “You… licked dirt?” he asked.

Not this again. “I am a walking forensics lab. It was for research purposes,” Connor said, shooting a look of betrayal at the WR600. 

“Come on, as long as you’re staying we can go see what else he can research!” Nigel grabbed Markus’s arm and pulled him toward the back room. “I have a 3-3-3 chemical fertilizer that I’m not sure will be safe for my plants, and it would be hilarious if you could DNA test my chrysanthemums! Can you do that?” Markus looked only slightly alarmed as he was dragged along.

OBJECTIVE: BOND WITH MARKUS AND NIGEL

Connor pulled his hand out of his pocket and followed them.

Outgoing message to Contact: [Lt. Hank Anderson]  
//I’m with Nigel and Markus at the plant nursery. It’s likely that I’ll come home with multiple plants tomorrow. Thank you :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. This is officially the very first multi-chapter fanfiction that I've ever completed. There's plenty that I'd like to go back and fix at some point, but I promised myself I wouldn't stress out too much about it. Just needed a good exercise to get back into it. 
> 
> Anyway, I plan on posting a chapter of the next fic within the week, and this time around I'll be spending more time on edits. Let me know if you have any requests, and thank you so so much for reading my fic.


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